Colonel Jack

«No», said I.

«How came you to be Colonel Jacque, pray?»

«They say», said I, «my father’s name was Colonel».

«Is your father or mother alive?» said he.

«No», said I; «my father is dead».

«Where is your mother, then?» said he.

«I never had e’er a mother», said I.

This made him laugh. «What», said he, «had you never a mother? What, then?»

«I had a nurse», said I; «but she was not my mother».

«Well», says he to the gentleman, «I dare say this boy was not the thief that stole your bills».

«Indeed, sir, I did not steal them», said I, and cried again.

«No, no, child», said he, «we don’t believe you did. This is a very clever boy», says he to the other gentleman, «and yet very ignorant and honest; ‘tis pity some care should not be taken of him, and something done for him. Let us talk a little more with him». So they sat down and drank wine, and gave me some, and then the first gentleman talked to me again.

«Well», says he, «what wilt thou do with this money now thou hast it?»

«I don’t know», said I.

«Where will you put it?» said he.

«In my pocket», said I.

«In your pocket!» said he. «Is your pocket whole? Shan’t you lose it?»

«Yes», said I, «my pocket is whole».

«And where will you put it when you get home?»

«I have no home», said I, and cried again.

«Poor child!» said he. «Then what dost thou do for thy living?»

«I go of errands», said I, «for the folks in Rosemary Lane».

«And what dost thou do for a lodging at night?»

«I lie at the glass-house», said I, «at night».

«How, lie at the glass-house! Have they any beds there?» says he.

«I never lay in a bed in my life», said I, «as I remember».

«Why», says he, «what do you lie on at the glass-house?»

«The ground», says I; «and sometimes a little straw, or upon the warm ashes».

Here the gentleman that lost the bills said, «This poor child is enough to make a man weep for the miseries of human nature, and be thankful for himself; he puts tears into my eyes». «And into mine too», says the other.

«Well, but hark ye, Jacque», says the first gentleman, «do they give you no money when they send you of errands?»

«They give me victuals», said I, «and that’s better».

«But what», says he, «do you do for clothes?»

«They give me sometimes old things», said I, «such as they have to spare».

«Why, you have never a shirt on, I believe», said he, «have you?»

«No; I never had a shirt», said I, «since my nurse died».

«How long ago is that?» said he.

«Six winters, when this is out», said I.

«Why, how old are you?» said he.

«I can’t tell», said I.

«Well», says the gentleman, «now you have this money, won’t you buy some clothes and a shirt with some of it?»

«Yes», said I, «I would buy some clothes».

«And what will you do with the rest?»

«I can’t tell», said I, and cried.

«What dost cry for, Jacque?» said he.

«I am afraid», said I, and cried still.

«What art afraid of?»

«They will know I have money».

«Well, and what then?»

«Then I must sleep no more in the warm glass house, and I shall be starved with cold. They will take away my money».

«But why must you sleep there no more?»